You look better when I'm drunk
by BlueEyedMe
Summary: Kamui reaches for his long braid and slips the tie of. Fingers slowly undo the braid while blue eyes glances towards the dark haired man beside him, almost in a dare to interfere, to touch.


So here's another one-shot. I've had this one lying around for a while actually, I simply forgot I had written it. Also please see pass the possible gramma mistakes. xD  
Now enjoy ~

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In a dark room illuminated only by a few candles on the table a young dark haired adult sits cross-legged with a kiseru between his lips supported by the fingers of his right hand and a cup of sake in his left hand, ready for a sip.

The young man stares with his visible eye, the other eye hidden behind bandages, upon the small source of light on the low table before him, the night silent while he is lost in thought. His keen hearing, from many years of training, intercept the noise of silent footsteps in the hallway followed shortly by the opening of the tatami door to his room. Still he does not shift his stare from the almost mesmerizing flames of the candles.

The tatami door is closed with a soft sound and the floorboards squeaks slightly from the weight moving over them. Had he not been a samurai the dark haired man would possibly not have heard the other move toward him.

A blood covered hand places itself upon his shoulder, smearing blood onto the purple material of his yukata, at the same time he lowers his kiseru and raises his cup to his slightly parted lips, ready to drink from it. First now with physical contact does he remove his eye from the candles to glare out the corner of his eye at the hand on his shoulder, but it does not stop the motion of alcohol flowing past his lips.

''Why do you come here, Kamui?'' He asks while he sets the cup down onto the tabletop, annoyance clear in his voice at the other's presence, and slaps the offending hand from his shoulder. Laughter fills the silent room for his effort.

''Now, now, Earth-Brawler-san, you almost sound as if you don't appreciate my visit,'' the Yato answer.

''I don't.''

''Ehh, don't be like that,'' the teen says with his ever present smile and flops gracelessly down next to the man. ''Care to share that?'' The young Yato gestures towards the sake bottle and cup on the table.

Wordlessly the dark haired man pours sake into the cup and hands it to the younger male, who brings the cup to his lips with a bloody hand. Looking at his own hand he sees a smear of a stranger's blood caused by the slap to Kamui's, before his eye lands on the youth beside him.

''It's Takasugi Shinsuke,'' he says as an afterthought. ''Don't forget it again.'' Taking a puff from his kiseru his good eye focus on Kamui's throat as it works while he shallow the alcohol, shifting to fixate on the now blood spotted cup as it is moves away from smiling lips to hovering before him waiting to be filled up again.

''You found a potential opponent I take it.''

Not a question, but a simple statement. Illuminated by the light, it is easy to see the blood on the teen's hands and clothes, a sure sign of his sinful act.

'No, he was weak, weaker than he appeared to be…'' Kamui sips from the refilled cup before he explains further ''It was a waste of time really, but I was already in the mood for a fight so I finished him off.''

A snort is the only reply he receive from Takasugi, who takes the cup back for a drink himself, before he hands it refilled to the younger again. Why he lets the Yato drink his sake and from his own cup he does not know, but let it happens anyway. And drink Kamui does, it would seem his Yato genes for an endless need for large amounts of food is not the only endless need he has. Huffing to himself, Takasugi takes the cup from Kamui and sets it next to the now almost empty bottle of sake on the table.

''Your endless stomach obviously can't feel the difference between water and alcohol.'' Takasugi aims to hit Kamui upside his coral-colored head when he laughs, but misses as he shifts out of the way ''If you don't want to end your life as a drunkard in the peripheral blocks you should stop alcohol altogether now, stupid.''

''As if I'd die as something that pathetic.'' The teen laughs and runs his right hand through his bangs, his stresses falling smoothly between his fingers. A motion not unnoticed by Takasugi, neither is the slight slurring of the other's words, proving the effect of the sake. Annoying really, as he would rather the other was not in his room, still a longing for company nags him and he lets Kamui stay.

His eye travels to the braid, such womanly hair for a man, a boy? Kamui is a nearly grown adult, yet not quite. Though, he is a dangerous one at that, deadly even, despises his innocent appearance and ever present smile. Lost in his musings Takasugi does not notice his stare has been catch by the Yato.

Kamui reaches for his long braid and slips the tie of. Fingers slowly undo the braid while blue eyes glances towards the dark haired man beside him, almost in a dare to interfere, to touch.

The invitation is not lost on the samurai who places his kiseru on the table before he rises to his feet and moves behind the other, where he pauses before hesitantly reaches for the teen's hands to still their movement. Settling himself down behind the teen, Takasugi takes over unbraiding Kamui's hair, feeling the coral stresses slide between his fingers, smooth as silk; a most pleasant feel.

A pleased hum from the Yato breaks the stillness of the room as Takasugi keeps running his fingers through Kamui's long, now unbraided, hair.

Kamui tilts his head slightly towards the left and his blue eyes follow his own hand's journey up a purple colored yukata shoulder dotted with yellow butterflies and further up to rest against a patch of tender skin at the side of Takasugi's neck, before his fingers gently skims upwards the neck to follow the arch of jawbone, dark hair tickling gently against his skin.

The samurai pauses in his actions, his instincts on high alert, when he feels Kamui's traveling hand near his neck and along his jaw line. He wets his lips and swallows, however pleasant the caress is, he feels threatened too, it is not just anyone's hands so close to tender skin, but Kamui's hand, a hand with blood on it, proving how dangerous the situation can turn to be.

Kamui laughs merrily, having guessed the reason for the end of petting from Takasugi when said man swallowed, and lets his hand fall down into his lap while he turns his head and smiles at the dark haired samurai.

''Ohh well, it was nice as long it lasted.'' Kamui says with mirth and moves to stand, feeling fingers slides from between his hair as he does so and a barely there touch down the material of his black traditional chinese uniform. Almost like a silent plea to stop.

As silently Kamui came in, as silent does he leave Takasugi's room.

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Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. :)

Till next time ~


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